Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster
by Pikeru's Angel
Summary: It's funny who you can meet in a small bar in Fitton... Cabin Pressure/Hitchhiker's crossover. Warning: Mild/moderate language and mentions of sex.


Arthur is not entirely sure how he ends up in a universe where the Earth hasn't been destroyed by Vogons (he assumes it has something to do with the Improbability Drive), nor is he sure how he is standing in a bar in a small town called Fitton. All he knows is that he is, in fact, there and that he is no longer in his dressing gown. The first he is happy about and the second incredibly thankful for. After all, how is one going to pick up a guy/girl/other in a _dressing gown_? After all he's been through he considers himself Omni, so anything compatible with a human. One can't be picky when they're the last human and they just need a good shag.

He pulled out the wallet he felt in his jacket pocket, happily surprised to find not only a full two hundred quid but also an ID naming himself as Arthur Dent rather than something else like, say Zaphod. (If Arthur never hears that name again for as long as he lives it will be far, far too soon.)

Sparing a brief glance at Ford, who is drinking himself into a stupor on the other side of the bar, he walks up to a slightly younger looking man with bright ginger curls. He waves to the bar tender for a couple pints, chugging one happily and placing the other in front of the ginger beside him who seems to have just finished off a glass of water.

Ginger blinks at him, pale eyes wide in the gloom of the dingy bar light. "Thanks," he mutters, taking a sip from the beer in front of him. Arthur shrugged.

"No problem. You look like you could use a pint, and believe me when I say I know what that feels like." Well, he hadn't needed a pint so much as a he needed a good cuppa, which was apparently incredibly hard to get off Earth. He takes another swig at the thought.

The other man nodded. "I'm Martin, by the way. Martin Crieff." _Unlucky sod,_ is the first thought in Arthur's mind. He'd known a Martin Crieff back in his dimension. He'd died in a plane crash on his first flight when he was thirty.

"Dent. Arthur Dent." Arthur replied, extending a hand. "I'm here with a friend -he's the one with the towel around his neck, by the way- but he's blown me off. Not that I blame him considering we don't even know how we got here." Martin raised an eyebrow at him, a slight smirk coming to rest on his face.

"You don't seem drunk," he said. All Arthur can do is laugh.

"He is; I'm not. Damn I need to be though with all the shite I've been put through." He raises his glass and finishes it off, motioning for another. "My whole planet was destroyed, and then there was this thing with a spaceship -several, actually- and a two headed president of the - was it galaxy or universe? Anyway, planet destroyed, pre-historic times, oh, and a Cathedral of Hate dedicated to me, can you believe it? And then there's my daughter and - God, I need more booze." He finished off his current pint and ignored Martin's obvious staring. "Oh, and then my girlfriend -Fenchurch- disappeared on a flight we were taking across the universe. And then I'm here with the man who bloody started it all!" He motions for a third beer, just to top the night off. "I'm not crazy, by the way. Or I wasn't before I ended up on the ship of the aliens which destroyed Earth in another universe."

Martin continued staring, slowly bringing his beer up and taking a small sip in an attempt to stop the awkward silence from Arthur's ravings. The man smiles cheerily at him.

"Anyhow, how has your life been? Because mine's just been shit."

{][][}

They continue chatting for some time, Arthur paying for the four beers and not getting another. The man doesn't even sound tipsy, for which he thanks one too many Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster's completely shooting whatever intolerance his body may have had for alcohol at some point in time.

Neither will ever be sure what exactly It was they talked about that led to Arthur waking up in Martin's bed the next morning, but damn it must have been one good conversation.


End file.
